


All Eyes On Me

by Star_less



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: "lets face it this isn't the worst thing you've caught me doing", Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Complete, Desperation, F/M, Gen, I Don't Even Know, Inspired by conversation, Latch-key incontinence, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Omorashi, One Shot, Peeing in things that are not a toilet, Poor Tony Stark, Pre-Iron Man 1, Supportive JARVIS, Tony has latch-key incontinence 'cause I said so, Tony-centric, Wetting, linked to Iron Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:54:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29010858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_less/pseuds/Star_less
Summary: Back then he had been drunk, drunk and bursting and at least the slightest bit coerced. Now... now he was nothing but stone cold fucking sober, stone-cold sober with the knowledge that if he moved any further he was going to have to contend with more than a piss filled suit.Returning from an investor meeting, Tony is bursting for a piss. Alone at home, he deals with the situation as it grows dire.
Relationships: Jarvis (Iron Man movies) & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts & Tony Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	All Eyes On Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [happyaspie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/happyaspie/gifts).



> This story contains omorashi - this is desperation to pee, as well as wetting. If you aren't interested in that, I'm not sure this fic will be for you. :)
> 
> Also, it is a gift for a dear friend, just because! Lol.

“Let’s face it,” Tony murmured, trying to fight the twist of embarrassment creeping up into his voice as he looked up at Pepper, his robots still manhandling his torso out of the Iron Man armour, “This isn’t the worst thing you’ve caught me doing.”

Hell no. It didn’t even come close.  
~

“Drive,”

“Sir, are you quite alri—”

“Jay,” Tony grimaced, fumbling, his hands pressing against one another as he battled the urge to stuff them both between his legs and squeeze. “ _Drive_!” and then-- _shit, why wasn’t he listening, Tony had programmed him so he had the override controls_ \--“C’mon Jay,” Fuck, he probably looked crazy all tense like this, not just in his middle but in his face as well, eyes all wide and forehead all veiny, “you’re killing me here. _Move_!”  
Beneath him, somewhere under the frantic throbbing in his middle, he felt the car purr into action and then, only then, did he feel a pinprick of happiness. Relief, even. But not quite. Not until- 

“Home, sir?” asked his faithful AI, and Tony didn’t say; his head pressed back into the neck rest, his legs both jiggling in turn. “Fuck,” was what he eventually said as they began to move off, glad that it was just him, just him and JARVIS because hell would freeze over before he ever told anyone else - “I have to piss _so bad_.”

“Home it is, then,” said JARVIS. Tony swore there was a hint of amusement knotted somewhere in his voice, but even if there was he certainly wasn’t in the position to challenge him on it.

Tony had never been one for bathroom breaks. They ate into time; that sort of precious time he could have spent working. At home, tucked away in his lab with only JARVIS for company, he had perfected the art of ignoring such urges—and JARVIS had soon learned of Tony’s limits after one-too-many close calls. The AI tried valiantly, bless his little cotton data-coded socks, but Tony rarely responded to his gentle chivvying. Outside of that scenario then, Christ, it was just _embarrassing_ , wasn’t it? There he was - the face of Stark Industries - stood in front of grim square-faced investors head to toe in Zegna’s finest - $20,000 apiece – trying not to tense his thighs and keep in the words, “excuse me while I find a bathroom,” – sipping at a coffee, then two, just to keep up the pretence.

“How did the meeting go?” JARVIS again; seeming to recognise where his train of thought was heading. 

Tony smoothed down the crisp, new, lines of his pant leg. He always bought a new suit every time he had a new meeting to go to or new faces to see. If anything, Pepper said, it’d impress them. “Good,” he said, swallowing hard, his fingers shaky, wanting to grip. “As good as it can be when—” he swallowed again, throat dry— _how, when he had drunk so much?_ —urge hitting, he gave in, groped for his crotch, squeezed. This time when he spoke his voice had a raspy quality to it, or a little riff-like tremble. “Oh,” he said, shaking like he struggled to even get the words out, leaning into his hand, pressing all of his weight against himself, “Jay, you just, _uh_ —Jay—get me home. Now.”

The rest of the drive was silent; JARVIS omnipresent, drinking in Stark’s movements; the scratching of the ear, the frantic snatched looks out of the window, the knock of knee. Guided gently by JARVIS the car turned the corner to the tower. “Here,” Tony blurted, fingers jabbing at the door for his escape, “Here—stop, Jay-“-- _he wasn’t stopping, why wasn’t he stopping_ \--“stop!” he pleaded, eyes wide and crazed.

“Sir, please wait until the car is stationary,” requested JARVIS; but sir had elbowed his way out of the car before the AI was even able to finish his sentence.  
~

He couldn’t wait. 

His mind’s eye taunted him, positioning him over the toilet (blue-tiled, clinically white; the toilet in their closest bathroom), a twisted bird’s eye view of him taking a leak long before he could feasibly get there, so vivid Tony squeezed his eyes shut for a long moment. He shivered, stilled, bent over at the waist – not here, please not here.  
When he opened his eyes again it was like a mental slap of sorts. The tower connected before him, blurrily; his jaw set. Not here. 

Not here, not here, he chanted mentally, trying to drown out that wicked image of himself in his mind’s eye.  
Tony raced up the stairs, as many as he could climb up in one go, one-two-three-four.  
The bathroom door was wide open as if welcoming him with open arms.  
He took the stairs as quickly as possible but, even so, it was as if the stairs multiplied in front of him, teasingly long and then longer still. He hit one step - _ah, closer now_ \- anticipation flooding every nerve in his body, tangy on his tongue, then moved for another; the image in his mind’s eye back, even more taunting than last time, the sound of water on water rushing in his ears now, the tingle that made his back arch. 

It was then that the wetness emerged for real; spotting first, tiny circles, then this great jet down his right leg--“No! S- shit!”—he bent over, trembling, hands dug deep in his crotch because there would be damned hell to pay before he pissed himself and especially if he pissed himself in front of the toilet.  
He shifted in place, holding himself, watching the leg of his suit begin to glisten sending creeping warmth in all the silken creases. “Oh...” Tony breathed out, leaning forward, pressing his weight into his hand, “Oh, shit...”  
He swallowed hard, standing there for what felt like an aeon just—just dripping; then tempted fate, stepped again – so close now – and ran.  
Ran still spurting, short distance though it was. Ran spitting out curses, thanking every deity that ever existed, every deity he had prayed to and sinned to and never apologised to, that the house was quiet.  
He got to the bathroom door, steadying himself with clammy, calloused hands. His knees wanted to give way.  
Christ, his entire _body_ wanted to give way as he stood there, leaned against the doorway, one hand plastered to his crotch, with his face twisted into a grimace. Secretly, Tony allowed himself to think, he could’ve sunk to his knees there and then, let it all surge past his gripped hands. But the toilet was there and it cackled at him with how close he was. He was not losing the battle now. Not here. Not so like a child.

Fate had other ideas. Frankly, he had tempted fate once too often and pissed off the man upstairs while he was at it. He stepped forward again, the trembling grip on his crotch loosening just a bit, just enough to manoeuvre his zipper down, Ju-u-st enough to... 

A stream burst free anew, running in a fat glistened line down the inside of his left leg; Tony swore, froze, bent in half and cut the stream to trickles, panting. The position forced him to stare at himself, to see for the first time the glistening pool in the crotch of his suit, dark and cold and wet against the tops of his thighs and oddly, uncomfortably, clingy against his groin. He took a shuddered shaky breath in, looked to his toes still stuffed into his pointy perfectly-shined shoes, looked slowly around the bathroom... his gaze settling on the towels, neatly folded on the towel rack. 

He had only ever tried it — _this_ — once. Once in college. Drunk on too much and still going in for more, he’d woken up the next day with a splitting headache and most of his memories of the night before blurred - aside from the girl and the way she whispered, ‘slowly, you have to let it out slowly, so it holds it all’ as he leaned into her touch.  
Tony hadn’t thought to question it then, couldn’t remember if it had worked, but shit, one way or the other he was going to find out once and for all. Back then he had been drunk, drunk and bursting and at least the slightest bit coerced. Now... now he was nothing but stone cold fucking sober, stone-cold sober with the knowledge that if he moved any further he was going to have to contend with a little more than a piss filled suit.  
Pulse-pounding, Tony jerked a towel from the rail; he bunched it with trembling hands; he pressed it against his still-dripping self... but at last, let a stream gush forward – a real, truly gushing stream, the sort that pulled a grunt from between his teeth, strangled and muted.  
Tony’s breaths came out short and hard as though he had lungs the size of teaspoons.  
The towel he was holding grew warm, got heavy, as plastered against the cold wall tiles Tony Stark shuddered and stilled and gave in to his body’s pleading, what he had needed to do for so long. He just about kept himself from sliding down against the wall, and for a still moment, it was just him, just him in his tiniest bathroom, close enough to pissing himself stupid.

“Tony?”

Tony went to ice – or, at least, his insides did. It wasn’t enough. His legs remained trembling, blood remained pumping, and though he had slid partway down the wall he wasn’t quite capable of melting through the floor entirely as he wanted to do, as every fibre in his body screamed at him to do once he realised that the owner of that curious, soft voice was none other than Pepper Potts. 

Pepper stared at him for a long moment, the sort of moment that hung on forever. The towel bunched up tightly between his legs, the way he trembled, the flushed redness leaking out over his cheeks and looping over his ears. What, exactly, had she walked in on him doing?  
Surely... surely not _that_... if, she thought, it was... _that_ , why not climb into the shower? It was an awfully, hm, overcomplicated way of dealing with... _it_. 

“I didn’t realise you were home,” Tony murmured. There was a slur to his voice that he tried so hard to bat away, a slur of raspy relief, stream still surging forth. He didn’t move from where he was sat, the towel squeezed between his legs. When had she gotten home? Had she heard him all this time? His eyes flickered, looking at the towel, soaked through; the muffled hiss of liquid slowing down. His hands flattened against the wall, all his weight forced through them so he didn’t sink forward, blissful, as his stream died off.

Pepper cleared her throat, nodded, this particular declaration doing little to evade her suspicions.  
“I just got back,” she said vaguely, her gaze fixed on him. She thought she had heard something going on... but this? No.  
There had to be something she was missing. Surely.  
Tony shifted, ever so slightly, and she got for the first time a glimpse of him still in that suit, the Zegna. She had chosen it especially for him for this particular meeting. It was beautiful – grey. She had rarely seen Stark in grey, but damn did he wear it well. She was sure, though, when the suit had arrived and she had seen it pristine in the cellophane, that it hadn’t had any discoloured patches on it; least of all between the legs. In fact, it almost looked as though Tony had...  
Her eyes drifted to the towel Tony still held pressed between his legs, suddenly it looked a little damper than usual. “You know...” she murmured at last, faint-voiced, “JARVIS is bound to have recorded this...?”  
It wasn’t what she wanted to say to him; what she wanted to say to him involved some variation of _you pissed on our fancy towels, are you insane?_ Or perhaps maybe _your suit, do you understand how much money I dropped on your suit for you to piss in it_ – but she kept her mouth shut, and this – this was what she had come up with, instead.

Tony shrugged, blinking slowly, and for the first time made an attempt to stand. The towel still preserved Tony’s dignity – although what dignity he had left after being caught pissing like this, he wasn’t too sure. “Not after I speak to him,” he waved his hand. Omnipresent, JARVIS recorded everything - he learned partially from their behaviour. It was nothing a quick data swipe couldn't help with, anyway. “I’m going to shower.”

Pepper took the hint; she turned on her heel, stepped away.

“Pep?”

She stepped back. 

“I’m sorry.”

For the first time, Pepper thought, Tony looked a little sheepish. “Oh, it happens,” she smiled pleasantly, as though it was commonplace, as though everyone just walked in on their boss pissing on their damned fancy towels, or in their damned fancy suit. It felt as though they had crossed some sort of line now; no going back. “You’re going to need it dry cleaned,” her voice was soft, warning, although really Tony didn’t need telling. “I can sort that out for you.”

“I’ll pay.” 

“Oh, you are.” Pepper nodded, smiling thinly. Tony took this as a sign the matter was resolved, ready to be scrubbed away and forgotten about. He shut the bathroom door, and seconds later the shower powered into life.  
~

“JARVIS?”  
Pepper sat at her desk, stretching, elegantly crossing one leg over the other. She took a cursory glance toward the office door; although the sound of the shower humming told her Tony was still preoccupied. Good. He’d be unlikely to hear JARVIS over the sound of the shower. Even better.

“Yes, Miss Potts. Do you require assistance in looking for a dry cleaner?”

“No!” Her voice was hurried, hushed, she shushed the AI softly. “No. That’s...” she cleared her throat, “That’s... in hand. Do you happen to have the footage you recorded earlier on?”

“The footage of Mr Stark, Miss Potts?” JARVIS asked. “Yes. I should think he will want it deleted. Should I begin the deletion process?”

“...No,” said Pepper. “No. Keep it.” She told the AI. “And not a word of this to Tony.”

“Of course, Miss Potts.”

Pepper smiled. 

She closed her laptop.

**Author's Note:**

> Pepper retired to bed early. She always retired to bed before Tony; Tony always got himself lost in his own head working away in the lab. She didn't mind, not really - he always stumbled to bed at some point and she always woke to the sensation of his arms tight around her, as they should be. Although even Tony was confused to see her slip up to bed shortly after eight-thirty. 
> 
> "Are you sick or something, Pep?" He swallowed a mouthful of stew, his brow quirked, concern etched into his face.
> 
> "No, no." She shrugged her laptop under her arm. "Just got... some work I want to sort out."
> 
> She watched the video with interest. Once in its entirety, then once more for all those noises he made, the _way_ he spoke, so frantic. She'd never heard that in him before. Then she re-wound, impatient, and finally slipped a hand beneath the duvet. Her cursor hovered over the play button, this time ready to see Tony go still and submit. 
> 
> "...What are you doing?" he saw her hand beneath the duvet; his eyes widened, "No, what are you _watching_?! _That_ doesn't look like work, Miss Potts?"  
> Tony, never one to miss out on any bedroom antics, dove in on the bed with her; this naughty, devilish little smile taking up his face. 
> 
> "Nothing! It's nothing!" Pepper blurted, snapping the laptop shut and throwing it across the room before he could sneak a peek.  
> ~
> 
> Also, yeah, I headcanon Pepper as being into omo and Tony as having tried it all (what self respecting playboy wouldn't?!) but being less fussed. Fight me. :P
> 
> Latch key incontinence is where you feel a sudden urge to go pee or begin to pee as soon as you get close to the front door or close to the toilet. Your body gets the 'go go go!' signal too early. It usually affects women (do your pelvic floor exercises, ladies!) but can affect someone for a variety of reasons, including coffee consumption.
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated but not necessary. ^_^


End file.
